


Fixed Objects

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Series: Love Crumpet [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Group Sex, M/M, Non-Consensual, Objectification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tables might not speak, and food trays clearly didn't, either, particularly since Jim had a ball gag keeping his mouth so far open that he was likely slobbering all over himself or strangling on saliva.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fixed Objects

He wasn't as sturdy as he'd been years ago, and it was kind of a pain in his ass. Hands and knees position was exhausting, even if he'd practiced it, and he couldn't have imagined when he'd be at a point in his life that he'd be fucking practicing kneeling for that long.

At the very least, the son of a bitch could have given him a pillow or something.

When Holmes had announced the party, Jim had gotten suspicious and started hiding himself away in the tall armoire. The damned basement didn't have any normal cupboards, and it took more effort to squirrel away in there. It also took more effort to get him out of the thing when he decided that he didn't want to leave it.

He missed the fucking closet just for the fact that he could climb in there with him. The tall armoire was too cramped, even when he slid in behind Jim. 

Not that hiding had done Jim any good. Holmes had someone come in and drag him out, kicking and screaming and biting, and toted him off, leaving Sebastian worried and wanting to hide himself in the damned thing. He'd come back hours later, still sedated, skin flushed red, entire body appallingly smooth. The many ways that could end had kept Sebastian awake for a very long time.

But Jim was tied to a table, splayed on his back.  With something poured into his belly button. Seb was half-tempted to crawl forward, to edge in closer and see just what the hell it was, but he was pretty sure he'd have a grape roll off of his back.

At the very least, he could be grateful for the fact that everyone seemed to be behaving as though he actually _was_ some sort of table. Grapes, small plates, cold little bowl filled with something stupidly chilly at the small of his back.

"You have such charming pets, Mycroft." If he had heard it once, he'd heard it ten times during the evening. Fuckers.

Sebastian caught himself chewing on his tongue as he felt the weight of tiny plates shift against his skin, heard the click. Fucking christ. How long did they expect him just to sit there and be some kind of low table?

"They are lovely, aren't they? Try the dip."

Yeah, the dip. Apparently the hair removal had been so that no one would get random stray hairs in their caramel or honey or whatever the fuck it was. Jim had given up squirming after almost an hour, which did explain why they had brought them down so much earlier. It had given him time to wear himself down and give in to their current situation.

"I had some earlier. Isn't that the pretty little bit of fluff from the party where....?"

"Oh, yes." Holmes was smiling, Sebastian could tell from the sound of his voice. "Perhaps we'll try that again soon."

He drew a slow deep breath, and tried not to shift any of the grapes. He shifted a leg, slowly, stretching it behind him. "Fuck."

"Be quiet, Sebastian. Tables do not speak." Yeah, and it could always be worse. He could be in use as an ashtray. He'd seen a fellow across the way in that unfortunate position. There was no telling who'd brought that poor bastard, or even if he'd possibly volunteered for it. He'd been rock hard on and off, so it was hard to guess.

Tables might not speak, and food trays clearly didn't, either, particularly since Jim had a ball gag keeping his mouth so far open that he was likely slobbering all over himself or strangling on saliva. It was equally clear that these things might not mean speaking, but clearly it included having his ass squeezed on a pretty regular basis.

He knew there was more coming. All of that, the posing, the waiting, was just an opening act. The grapes would end, and then...

Then. There it was, a slick finger sliding into his ass, and he went still as death, wondering what the hell was going to happen. It could be just one man, it could be the whole fucking party, women included, and he shuddered at the very idea.

He exhaled slowly, holding as still as he could while whoever it was slowly finger fucked him. They were taking their time, and he didn't dare turn his head to see. There were some things that it was better not to know, better not to see, and the way it felt seemed extraordinarily thorough and patient.

That didn't bode well, in his opinion.

He preferred fast, sloppy, because it meant it was going to be over sooner. As it was, the intrusion was almost patient, lazy. Lingering as he tried not to shift, but his knees hurt, and his hands, and fuck. Fuck, he had to move.

"He's a bit low for properly enjoying him, don't you think, Mycroft?" Apparently, moving had been a bad fucking idea, because it had clearly drawn attention to him in ways that he didn't want.

"I suppose." Just from the location of the voice, he had to be the one with his fingers in Sebastian's ass.

"Can we move him, then?" We. We, christ, he didn't want to deal with 'we'. He didn't want Mycroft fingering him, but at least the man was deft at what he was doing.

Not everyone would be.

"I suppose we could. Perhaps in proper view of the dipping table, hm?"

Fuck. Oh, fuck, because Jim didn't cope with that, Jim went fucking psychotic when that happened, and he wanted badly to protest. Wanted, but didn't dare. He hung his head down between his shoulders, and huffed at the feeling of Holmes curling his fingers slowly, playing with his hole as he pulled them back out.

"Do come along now, Colonel." His rank, and whether that was supposed to make him nothing more than it or give everyone else more of a rush because they weren't fucking some grunt, he had no idea. He didn't care, because he didn't have what it took to care. Not right now. Maybe not fucking ever, because it seemed like this would be forever. Just like this, the rest of his life, and that made it even worse.

He exhaled, shifted minutely as he lifted his head. "Where?" Sebastian could feel the grapes move, and he oddly didn't want to drop the plates. It was something of a relief that someone lifted them off of his back, and he rose, knees creaking.

"Over by darling Jimmy, I believe. He should get a chance to enjoy this, don't you think?"

He exhaled and stretched the muscles of his back, moving over closer by Jim, wondering where they wanted him to kneel or move. He supposed he'd be directed to lean against a piece of real furniture, but for a moment he could see just how many damn people were in the room.

Christ.

No. No, because he wasn't going to think about this, he wasn't going to consider just how many people were eying him, he was probably going to have a fucking heart attack. He could see the dark roll of Jim's eye, the way he struggled briefly against the truly ridiculous number of restraints and then relaxed with a huff of breath made Sebastian want to be as far away from him as possible.

Nowhere near the least compliant dip bowl in the history of tacky parties. But it wasn't an option, and he hesitated as he came up to the table. Face up or down?

Choices, choices, and then Holmes had his hand on the small of his back, pushing him along the way as though he wasn't, had never been, a fucking hired killer. Not just a killer, but a fucking amazing shot, the kind of shot that won awards, the kind of shot that made _money_ , and he was... now he was just this.

He moved, knelt, face down, and tried not to think, tried not to think about what had been and comparing it to what was now. He didn't want to lie down, and he didn't want to look over at Jim to see what he was seeing. It was for the best, he knew. Best if he didn't look at Jim, didn't let Jim see him or the way that he wanted anything else than to be where he was at the moment. Hands repositioned him, though, settled him so that he could see Jim and Jim could see him, and he sincerely hoped that Holmes would be struck by lightning and immediately die.

He closed his eyes tightly, trying to will away the image of Jim behind his eyes, but he was still there, grim and furious when he opened them again, so no luck. "Fuck." There were hands on his arse again, squeezing one cheek.

"He is lovely," a woman commented. "And dangerous, or so they say. Surely that must be part of the attraction."

"He's still dangerous," Mycroft hummed behind him, fingers on the back of his neck. "It's just that the man knows when it's in his best interests to behave as I wish. Go on, have a feel. Do what you like."

As she liked was apparently sliding a hand close to squeeze his cheek, short-nailed thumb slipping between them to rub at his hole. "Shame. I do wish you had said there would be such a delight. I'd have brought more equipment."

He bit at his bottom lip, and tried not to move against the motion. Tried not to swear, either. "You can always assume he'll be here again. He's not headed anywhere."

"Still. Perhaps you might have something to offer..." The suggestion slipped towards sly, and Jim gave a sound behind his gag that could only be meant as deep and sincere protest.

Mycroft made an amused sound, and slid his hand between Sebastian and the table, lightly tugging at his cock. "What would you like? I have all sorts of toys available. Enough for almost anything."

"Almost." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Very well. Do bring out the entire collection."

He could feel the twist of finger in his arse, and Sebastian pressed his forehead to the table and hissed. He could hear Mycroft retreat, and that was a relief in the wild noise of the place, because the sharks smelled blood.

It was no surprise that it didn't take long for Mycroft to return; he'd doubtless had the basket of whatever the fuck it was neatly tucked away, ready to be dragged out at a moment's notice. He probably hadn't even gone to fetch it himself, only waited for its return. "Such a swift response."

"I had it in mind earlier. Going on the theme of items from the garden..." He turned his head when the basket was set down, and swore he saw vegetables.

What. The. Fuck.

Jim was making noises now, raised voice behind the gag, but it seemed as though the basket of... things... was some sort of signal, because there were guests converging around them, fingers slipping through pools of caramel, and he wasn't surprised when he realized someone was striking Jim's dick even as the woman playing with his own ass reached for something that looked remarkably like an ear of corn.

He really fucking hoped it wasn't an ear of corn, even if it looked like one. Sebastian squirmed, almost glad he wasn't face-up as he tried to move away. Just briefly.

Sometimes, it was better not to see it coming: it made him feel like the bloke in movies who carried around his girlfriend's photo -- doomed from the start.

Jim was moaning behind his gag a few feet away, and Sebastian chose to focus on that instead of the slick fingers prying into him, stroking to arouse. Jim, center of everything. Gagged and squirming, a little drool at the corners of his mouth as they toyed with him, too

At least there was something for him to enjoy. Fuck the lot of them, fuck the woman behind him, fuck Holmes. He still had his mind and his fantasies, and if he worked things just so, they'd come together and let him out if this hell for a bit.

He could, he could imagine it was Jim behind him, and Jim putting an elbow awkwardly against his spine before he felt a thick hard thing press against him.

God above. Ignoring that was going to be difficult, and the woman was prattling on about his hole, pink and greedy and fuck. Why couldn't she just get on with it? She was toying with him instead, pressing it in and out and back in again, just slow and lazy while she chortled to herself. "Fuck, fuck, please..." He wanted more or nothing at all, but that shit was only sexy when he was up for it.

"No wonder you keep him." It sounded like a complement. "So delicious. Are you sure you wouldn't like to sell him to me?"

"No, unfortunately it's a set, the two of them."  A hand squeezed his ass as he felt it finally push in nice and deep. The too-fast burn made his balls ache as he tried to not squirm too much.

"Oh, but the other one is clearly such an adorable thing. Surely..."

"No." That was quite final. "What is the saying? Ah, too much car for even you to handle?"

"Shame." She twisted it slowly, and then it turned on with a deep, jolting buzz that left him grinding down against the cold tabletop.

The feel of it was electric, and whoever she was, she clearly had a damned fine grasp of anatomy. Each shift seemed to find his prostate in little nudging bumps that were too much, intense and hot and mortifying as hell.

Her fingers trailed down his taint, scratching lightly at the skin there in just one more sensation he didn't know how to process with the rest. Shudders rippled through him and he closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, and he became aware that it was a litany spilling from his mouth in sharp concussive bursts every time she re-angled the vibe.

"You're a lucky man, Mycroft." Her chortle barely made it into his consciousness as he turned his head, straining to focus on something that wasn't the damn vibe in his ass. He managed to pry his eyelids open, peering across the way. Someone had unstrapped Jim's legs, and they were being held apart while a man positioned his cock rubbing it up and down the crack of his ass. Fuck, he remembered doing that, and then the vibe shifted in him again and he was utterly lost to that sensation.

Struggling and wishing that he was strapped down, because it was easy to fall into it, easy to move and try to fight back, while he kept trying to restrain himself. "Please, fuck, please..."

Please, please, please, and she was all murmurs behind him, one hand on the small of his back, fucking him goddamned blind with the thing, and then someone slipped a hand under the table and stroked his dick and the world exploded in orgasm.

He was panting against the hard wood, probably drooling against it, mouth and dick both, and all he wanted was for it to stop, because the vibe kept buzzing away.

"My, my. I'm going to love playing with you again. I might need to sell a few jewels to convince you that I want him for myself." What the fuck ever, but at least she was pulling it out. Oh, thank fuck.

He stretched out his arms, and started to push himself up to unknot his back because there was more coming. There was more coming, and some stranger was fucking Jim, and at least Jim looked bored.

A man had to be grateful for small favors.

"Ah, I'm afraid he's worth quite a bit more than even your jewels would bring, Duchess."

"Shame." He saw the back of a sleek dress as she moved over to eye Jim, and the crowd was forming. It wasn't fast and it wasn't hard or fighting them off. They were civilized and calm about what they wanted, and what they wanted was a convenient fuck of dangerous men.

"However, if you like, you can come with me and we can... discuss more regular access. Should you be interested."

"Yes, please. Look at his arse, its winking. And he's so sleek..." He laid back down in the table, feeling a strong hand grab his ankle.

Might as well lie back and think of England.


End file.
